Bad Romance
by Chesiere Cat
Summary: The point of bad romance is that you do not need an ordinary happy ending. BL, 10069.


**Bad Romance**

**Disclaimers:** Katekyo Hitman Reborn! © Akira Amano

**Summary:** The point of bad romance is that you do not need an ordinary happy ending.

**Pairing:** Byakuran x Mukuro

**Warning:** This fanfiction contains BL and yaoi materials as well as some spoilers for the end of Future Arc.

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_The point of bad romance is that you do not need an ordinary happy ending._

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**Bad Romance:**

**10069 Perfect End Challenge Fanfiction**

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"Say you love me."

The words, like champagne satin, whisper against his ear – so soft…so tender as if the whisper were just a sweet nothing yet it isn't. For the voice is filled with authority to the brim.

Demanding. Ordering. Even forcing.

Say otherwise and it promises punishment.

He shivers. Those daring hands are touching him all over, touching every part of him as if to show that he is _his_ possession. Those hands…caress him with gentleness – so much gentleness as if fearing that he would break apart. Yet he knows…he knows much better. The reason those loving hands are so gentle is only because…

For those hands' owner, it is so easy to break him.

A piece of velvet covers his eyes. He cannot see but still he can clearly see the other's smile. So brilliant…so beautiful…so angelic. Like a smile of an angel. Yet so false. That smile is nothing but a fallacy. He remembers the wings. Byakuran's wings. Spreading gloriously as the man proclaimed his surpassing of humanity. Yet those wings of white were ripped apart, letting the true wings show.

Sprouting from the King of Thousand Flowers' back…is another pair of wings…made of blood.

The true color of those wings…is crimson. Just like the blood the false angel has spilled.

He is nothing but a demon in the disguise of angel.

That smile…is nothing, for it fills with nothing but emptiness.

The blue haired-man's lips break into a smirk.

Smiling…for the sake of just smiling. Smirking just for the sake of mocking.

Mukuro doesn't think he needs to understand Byakuran. He doesn't want to associate himself with a mafia…or dive deeper into personal matters more than he is required to. But somehow… Somehow he thinks…he understands Byakuran a bit.

"We're both insane." The illusionist whispers, letting out a shuddering sigh as one of the other's hands brush past his genital. "…I love you."

…

"…I love you."

The words ring in his ears over and over – so sweet and charming – as the lithe body arches beneath his touch. Those narrow hips immediately buck up in wanton as one of his hands begin to ghost between those shapely legs.

The smile on his lips widens as he enjoys every passing second of this, loving how pliant and submissive the beautiful illusionist has become the more he touches him, savoring each melodic moan and gasp that fleets those enticing lips like a whispering plea.

The complete power he has over him as Rokudou Mukuro willingly surrenders all of himself.

For this…is the price he has to pay.

Pale fingers curl around long blue locks, marveling at their softness before he pulls the other closer, sealing those cherry colored-lips with his. Their tongues dance together as the blue haired-man allows his tongue entrance; pushing, yielding, twining together as if they were the most intimated lovers.

The hand between the other's legs starts stroking…faster and faster and he can easily feel the other's strength waver – his fragile throat trembles – before sweet, lovely moans are heard between kisses that eventually end with him panting and Mukuro's sharp gasp.

"Mukuro-kun…" The white haired-don utters, moving his cum sticking fingers toward the other's pliant lips. "You're such a masochist."

The blue haired-man smiles, "You can probably say so," before parting his lips, letting pink tongue dart out and lick away the sticky fluid, tasting himself on those fingers.

"But I was not the one breaking our promise."

Their rematch.

"Hmm…you surely don't like losing."

"Kufufu. But I love this new game." And as soon as he licks Byakuran's fingers clean, he feels himself being yanked by the hair. And as he falls forward, he feels something…rock-hard and hot…against his lips. And then, comes the bloody angel's demand:

"Entertain me."

…

"If you want it that way, you'll have to entertain me, Mukuro-kun."

The illusionist smirks, feeling the not-so-gentle pull in his hair and the rock-hard erection against his lips. His entire being seems to react positively to that husky voice calling his name. It sends shivers down his spine – with desire, with anticipation.

Slowly as his eyes are covered but surely as he knows what he wants, his hands move, caressing the pulsating cock briefly, moving along the length – the sticky fluid that is precome drips onto his lips – before…he takes it all into his mouth.

He can hear the other's deep, lustful groan as the hands in his hair tighten and if it wasn't for the big, throbbing cock in his mouth, he'd smile.

Rokudou Mukuro is aware of what he can do…and he can do so many things, especially when he knows how his looks alone – without mentioning the charisma – can be alluring. Of course, Vongola has benefited a lot from this too – giving Mukuro the job, letting him flirt around a bit and then the information needed is gotten. But flirting around is nothing compared to the sight of him deep-throating someone.

It can be…_extremely_ stimulating.

The illusionist almost chokes as Byakuran tries to shove his cock deeper into his throat. Still, he tries his best to stay in control; pleasuring the other with his tongue and mouth as the other begins thrusting.

He knows Byakuran is holding back, for the true nature of his in bed is pretty aggressive – he always leaves bruises and cuts on his body and he seems to enjoy so much the sight of him bleeding. Still, Byakuran knows the time they are playing. He will wait until the right time to reap his prize. Until then…

It is a game of control and entertainment.

And Rokudou Mukuro never fails his job as the entertainer. If the world is so dirty, he will smear it beautifully with red – the sea of blood. If someone doesn't have meaning in life, he'll make him his lovely puppet. If sorrow is to cry, he'll only smile and laugh. And…

For someone who smiled when a promise was to be broken…

_I robbed you of your death. But at the price I am willing to pay. _

He'd make him live.

_With or without wings, you cannot fly away._

It doesn't take long before the sensation peaks and the false angel comes, spurting his seeds right into his illusionist's mouth. The blue haired-man doesn't move away but instead voluntarily swallows all to the last droplet as if he were a shameless whore.

_For I will not be the only one incarcerated in this world…_

…

His ambition is now nothing but rubbles of wretched dream and meandering memories.

All the knowledge he has gained from all the parallel worlds are as clear as crystal. Yet his memories are confused and jumbled. There are so many possibilities – spread wide and endless like the sea so vast. Sometimes he cannot remember when and where those memories begin.

In a world, his father left him with his mother. In another, it was his mother who left. But in some of them, he grows up a happy boy with the love of both his father and mother. And in many, he is an orphan.

Different memories, different feelings but he knows all of these are real.

The power is a gift yet…it is also…

A curse.

The entire world once believed to be full of meaning…soon becomes nothing but sceneries that do not have much value. Destroy one and another reality still exists.

There are so many possibilities. There are so many pasts. Therefore, it is better to throw away the past and instead shape the future.

The one and only future that has him as God.

Over and over he has played the same game of chess. The result has always been predictable: he was always the winner. But never… Never has he obtained the true power of the trinisette – his prize. Maybe he is just tired. Tired of the world that is his chessboard and the victory and ambition he does not wish to let go that…

At that moment, when death was so close as the brilliant flame was about to consume him, he could truly smile.

To once again, feel the unpredictable…

To finally be free…

Even though he has to break a promise…

_Even though I didn't have time to say goodbye. _

But it seems someone didn't want to let him go that easily. That someone…that pulled him back and deliberately entangled him in this world…with this string called…desire.

It certainly isn't romantic but it amuses Byakuran.

For they are together writing a bad romance. With no remorse.

But with strong attachment.

Removing the blindfold, Amethyst colored-eyes watch the mismatched orbs unveil. And when those long, dark lashes flutter open, red and blue orbs reflect back the amusement and desire as well as something neither of them dares speak of.

"Now spread for me, love. I want you."

The elusive mist and the bloody sky…they will dance together until all the flowers in the world wilt and laugh as this world eventually meets its doom.

Because the point of bad romance is that you do not need an ordinary happy ending.

The blue haired beauty lowers his lashes as he lies back on his back and seductively parts his shapely legs – a mischievous smile donning his lips.

"And I want your everything."

Hatred. Cruelty. Desire. Tenderness and…

Love.

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**The Game:**

**Never Ends**

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This fic is written for 10069 Perfect End Challenge at mashinapo community at LiveJournal. I wish I could make it longer but it seems it's better to end the fic there. It's not the happiest ending. Nor does it have any samba party but...oh well, Bad Romance really suits 10069 to a tee.

Anyway, I'd be really happy if you'd review. I've got lots of fav but the lack of review is pretty...discouraging, to be frank.

-Chesiere Cat aka Hiyuura


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